


Things That Go Bonk in the Evening

by Kavi Leighanna (kleighanna)



Series: Avery'verse [5]
Category: Rookie Blue
Genre: Avery'verse, F/M, Hospital Visit, Stitches, non-life-threatening injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-19 10:22:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1465861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kleighanna/pseuds/Kavi%20Leighanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Daddy Swarek has to take his son to the hospital for stitches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things That Go Bonk in the Evening

**Author's Note:**

> For my Tumblr followers who couldn't stop prompting me with this universe. You guys all know who you are.

See, he's not watching at the time is the thing. Actually, it's not that he's not watching, it's just, he turned away because another parent had offered their view on Florida as a relatively cheap warm vacation spot (he wants to take Andy, thinks maybe it's about time he did) when it happens.

There's a collective gasp, a parent yells out for their kid, then they're all racing over the field. Sam takes his time, actually, because he's not a helicopter parent, and it's a damn soccer game. These kids don't generally get terribly injured at these things. Danny's come away with bruises they can't figure out, but it's never really worried either of them.

(Andy got bruised from basketball. A lot. Volleyball too, if he remembers right. He spent enough time on the streets in his wayward youth to be pretty blasé about a whole lot of injuries.)

Turns out maybe he should have moved a bit faster.

Both kids are sitting up at least, Danny and Sam thinks the kid's name is Oliver. Oliver looks relatively unscathed, but Danny? Well, there's a lot of blood.

"Someone call an ambulance!"

Sam closes his eyes as Danny's swing around. The kid's had an irrational fear of them since Avery had to go in one from a ballet recital. (Turns out, his first born's allergic to beestings. She'd been a trooper about the whole thing and now proudly carries an Epi-Pen). It's probably the worst thing someone could have said. And, unfortunately, as a cop, he's the only one the trained in crisis management.

"Coach," he asks, calm as can be. "Got a towel? Let's see the damage."

Danny's not crying (which is totally unexpected, the kid's five) and Sam's starting to lean a little towards shock. He's got a bit of a glazed look. Sam only vaguely thinks he should be worrying.

"Daddy, is my nose bleeding?"

Sam chuckles as he wipes the blood off his son's face. Well, his nose isn't bleeding, no. His head on the other hand-

(Logically, head wounds bleed. Like, more than anything else, considering the damage they usually represent. But. This is his kid. His kid)

"My head hurts," Danny says next, little hand coming up to figure out what's going on. Sam deftly reaches for it, hanging onto it.

"Good news is your nose isn't bleeding," Sam announces, "and we won't need a bus."

Danny relaxes immediately. Sam and Andy have taught their kids all sorts of cop shorthand, mostly by accident. And, well, they're in a flexible after-school program, but they don't bus to school. Bus takes on a new connotation with them.

"Come on, Bud. We gotta get in the car."

"That's a lot of blood," one of the mothers pipes up. Sam briefly entertains the thought of wrapping his hands around her neck. Can't you see I'm trying to keep my kid calm here, woman? "Are you sure he doesn't need an ambulance?"

Sam's more really sure he doesn't need to pay for it. Sure, Canada's got that whole national health policy thing, but it doesn't cover everything. With the amount of blood pouring out of Danny's head, he's already concluded stitches will be involved (and that's going to be it's own drama because while the ambulance is bad, he's got a feeling the hospital will be worse).

"Remember what we have to do with bleeding cuts?" he asks Danny instead.

"I cut my head open?"

Yup, Sam thinks, definitely sliding into shock now. His voice is hazing up and his eyes are glazing over. He briefly entertains the thought of asking another parent to come with him, just to make sure the towel stays in place.

Danny smiles, looking a little bit drugged. "Cool."

Sam ducks his head to hide a smile. His kid should be screaming bloody murder at the moment (no pun intended), and instead he's quite obviously already thinking about the stitches. He and Andy have both been the recipient of those since Danny was born.

He does end up taking another parent (Danny's head had lolled precariously when Sam had gone to lift him), the step-mother of the kid who was in the collision with Danny. They bonked heads, apparently, and Sam shakes his head again. Bonking heads and his son's going to need stitches.

Andy's not picking up, though he's not exactly surprised. She's got both girls, is probably just picking Katie up from art class. Not exactly conducive to picking up the cell. He leaves her a message, calm as can be, because Andy'll flip.

(Andy always flips when it's Danny. It would be funny if it wasn't for the fact that he'd been a basket case while Avery was on the IV antihistamines for her beesting. He's kind of just waiting to see what kind of traumatic injury Katie can manage. Maybe something with a paintbrush.)

They're seen almost immediately. Bleeding head plus kid equals quick pass. It's like being a cop with a stab wound, only likely less life-threatening. The nurse is obviously one who has dealt with his fair share of injured kids. He wears Batman stickers and carries temporary tattoos in his pockets.

Sam's pretty grateful. He's not sure how much longer he'd have been able to keep Danny calm. It's not the first nurse he's had stitch up an injury and he stands behind his son's head. It isn't until Nurse Steve ("Captain America!" Danny had exclaimed. He's going through a phase, though it might be the heavy influence his eldest has on her siblings too.) pulls out the anesthetic needle that Danny starts to panic.

"No! Daddy no!"

Sam's hands rest on Danny's shoulders. He has to swallow before he can speak. He's not the biggest fan of needles either. (He'd been bitten by a raccoon a few months back. Andy'd been partnered with him at the time and laughed her ass off the whole time they waited for his rabies shot.) "It numbs the area, Buddy. So you don't feel anything."

Danny's whimpering, now starting the tears. Sam knows better though. Andy'd give in, but Danny needs the stitches, needs them bad. He has to be the strong one. Not the first time and certainly not the last. So, he tightens his fingers on the skinny little shoulders. "Daniel."

His own eyes (well, he'd argue they're not his, but Andy's pretty adamant) stare back at him, rebelliously dark with a little mouth that quivers. Sam only feels a touch of sympathy, mostly when the needle goes in. God, he hates doing this, hates the idea of his kids in pain. He comforts himself with the thought that it'll be over soon. He won't feel a thing.

And sure enough, a few moments later. "Daddy, my head is floating."

Sam laughs, hoping it doesn't sound as shaky as it feels. He's pretty sure he can actually hear his chest rattling as he inhales. "Still attached. I've got it."

Danny's entire little body relaxes.

Steve smiles up at Sam, having finished irrigating and tidying the wound. It's still bleeding a bit, but the nurse seems unfazed. "Okay, my man. We're gonna put the stitches in. Can you feel my fingers?" When Danny gives a negative answer, Steve turns to the thread and needle that he's about to put in Danny's head. "Awesome possum. Here we go."

Sam watches. He's not sure why because, man, that's weird, but he can't seem to take his eyes away from the needle and thread. He can't say he's ever watched someone put in stitches. It's kind of surreal to actually watch a needle and thread put into the skin to hold it together.

"Are you moving my eyebrow?" Danny asks, a little blearily. Medicine kicking in. Danny's always reacted a little differently to medicine. He drops dead with one baby Advil dose.

"Nope. You feel tugging?" Steve asks, still focused. The guy is efficient, Sam'll give him that. He's kind of glad. He once had a nurse that left bruises in his elbow because she couldn't find the vein for an IV. But Steve's four stitches in and the cut's almost closed up.

He's on the last stitch when Andy comes barreling in, eyes wild. She's got Katie in her arms, Avery attached to the loop in her jeans. Avery's calm, Katie's sucking her thumb. He finds it kind of funny that there's such a range of reactions to the situation.

"Hi, sweetie," Andy says, stepping closer. Sam bites his lip. (She hates 'sweetie' as a term of endearment, but she uses it whenever the kids are in trouble. She called Avery 'sweetie' for a week when Andy'd had to go in for emergency surgery after giving birth to Danny.) He can see the struggle in her eyes, wanting to reach out for her little boy but knowing Katie's got a hand firmly tangled in her hair. Sam wants to reach out for her, but he doesn't really want to let go of Danny either.

"You must be Mom," Steve speaks up, tying off the last stitch. He blots the cut, gathering some of the blood. "You've got a trooper here."

"What happened?" she demands. "How many stitches?"

"Six," Steve answers calmly. "No concussion. No signs of any other injuries. You're gonna look like Harry Potter, my man."

Sam watches Andy relax, but she's still looking to him for some answers. Sam rolls his eyes, before he speaks, trying to convey that this isn't a big deal. They've had stitches over stupider things. "He bonked heads with a kid. Kid walked away with a goose egg."

"And Danny's got stitches?" she asks in shock. "That's dumb."

"Mommy. Bad words," Avery says, but her voice sounds a little far away. She's beside Andy, but she's reached a hand up to grab Danny's ankle. She takes her big sister duties pretty damn seriously. She looks a little shell shocked, actually. She's going to need A Talk later. God, she's even still in her tights.

(Avery's the one that insisted on dance. Sam and Andy probably wouldn't have picked it out as an extra-curricular. Wouldn't have even registered on the radar of potential activities Avery's not a girly-girl, plays in the dirt with the boys, and apparently makes a pretty good ballerina since she inherited her mother's lithe looks. Her teachers ask Andy if she danced. Andy laughs.)

"Boink," Katie says and giggles. It breaks the ice because even Danny grins. Leave it to Katie with her uncanny way of finding the right thing to say at the right moment.

"All right my man," Nurse Steve says, tying off the last stitch. "We're all done. We're going to put a bandage over it, just to keep it clean and keep little fingers from poking. I'm going to give Mom and Dad some pamphlets on stitch care-"

"We're cops," Andy steps in. "We're familiar with stitches."

"Look at that, Buddy. You're a lucky kid. Mom and Dad already know."

(Sam likes that Steve talks to Danny. Means he can watch Andy. There's worry, regret and man, this isn't even the first hospital visit for their kids. Antihistamines aside, Katie fell out of a tree when she was five, and got a stick to the eye just last year during a park visit. It's not even Danny's first visit to the ER and she looks like Katie's the only thing keeping her standing.)

They're a bit of a jumbled mess getting out of the hospital. Sam's got Danny, the kid's head lulling against his shoulder. Avery's attached to one side, tugging on Danny's ankle when she trips over Sam's feet. He's got Andy's hand in his pocket too, hovering close. To be honest, he's not entirely sure how the hell they get to the parking lot.

They divide and conquer with minimal argument. Sam's glad, even as he straps a very drugged, very sleepy Danny into his seat. Avery's buckled on her brother's other side, a compromise with Andy since they have two cars. Sam doesn't even bother with the radio as he drives and he's not surprised to find Andy bouncing on the front porch when they drive in. This time, he doesn't argue when Andy reaches in to pick up their now sleeping son.

They're all a bit quiet for the rest of the night. Once they're in bed, Andy turns over and curls into him. "We should check on him."

"Hospital said he was fine, Andy."

"He has stitches."

"He bonked his head. No concussion. It happens to kids."

She doesn't seem convinced.

He sighs. "Okay look. I'll set the alarm. Two hours. But you're the one getting up to check."

Danny whines something bitter when Andy wakes him up two hours later, and then again two hours after that. When he all but begs to go to school the next day, stitches, bandages, exhaustion and all, Sam bites down hard on his 'I told you so'.


End file.
